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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715771">Vive La Révolution</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Human, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:54:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>415</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27715771</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A refined Francis and a rather discourteous Arthur collide in a countryside ball, and something spectacular emerges from it. Yes, the title is temporary. No, Alfie, I will not put your awful language in the title. WIP.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>England/France (Hetalia)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Vive La Révolution</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've changed Arthur's character here a bit from the canon, but this gradually changes (or will, as I continue writing) :^)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It would be a particularly fine ball that night. Lavish paintings decorated the ceilings, cast in gold and silver, a glowing chandelier hanging above, silk curtains reminiscent of jewels hung against the walls. The evening was well under way, wine happily sitting in his belly and a little tired from twisting and turning with the prettiest ladies, that he happened upon an interesting young man. Idly sitting in the corner, alone, it seemed, clenching a glass and staring off into the nothingness. Though at first he seemed rather plain - blonde hair, average height, weight - upon a closer look he had a remarkable glint in his green eyes, delicate features yet a rather angry, no, stern expression set upon him. He seemed to awkwardly let people shuffle past him, daring not even to give a slight smile or wave. Francis didn’t even recognise him. Alas, a new acquaintance never hurt, and strangely, his interest was piqued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good evening, sir! How are you enjoying the festivities, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mon ami?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He knew rather well what the answer would be. Though the man looked quite surprised at the sudden question, he would answer something along the lines of, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It is a fine festival, thank you sir.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>And Francis would politely nod, smile, and carry on his evening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rather too… festive.” He hardly let Francis mutter a word or a breath before carrying on. “I don’t, personally, think we ought to put so much attention into such… </span>
  <em>
    <span>excessive</span>
  </em>
  <span> parties.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An interesting man indeed. Despite his bluntness, rudeness, and hubris, Francis was intrigued. Never before had he been spoken to so bluntly, so rudely, as the host of a party, as an upstanding citizen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, don’t take it personally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mon ami-” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Arthur took a moment to look him up and down and raised an eyebrow - he didn’t say anything, but delicately took a sip of his wine, before grimacing and setting it down on the table as if it were poison. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed, I think it is time for me to retire for the evening. Goodnight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man up and left immediately, giving Francis no time to even formulate a reply in his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the crowded hall Arthur stood impatiently. People pushed past him, giving him unkindly looks and he said or did nothing. His arms were placed neatly by his sides, stood upright, glaring nefariously into Francis’ eyes. He turned away for a second. Francis called out again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never told me your name."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kirkland.” His stare struck harder. “Goodnight.” </span>
</p>
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